Ben was eight months old yesterday, so I'm going to show you some photos of him when he was eight weeks old, to show you how much he's changed.
It all started in February, when I got the go-ahead to get my new Border Collie puppy. When we arrived, the man said, "I think their ears are a bit too long..."
I looked at the litter of eight puppies. He was right. Their ears were too long. I thought for a moment, but the puppy lust took over and we took one. We had already decided which one, because we had seen them before. The runt (or jorry) was the dog with the most white on it, and was a boy, like we wanted. I loved his little stripe, and was the only one in the litter with one.
I went over to him, and he ran into a corner in fear. I picked him up and he was still scared. We went to the Land Rover and said goodbye, with Ben sitting on the floor at my feet. He jumped up on me and stayed that way for the 25 minute journey to Greenhill Farm.
We put him in a cardboard box, and took him into the kitchen, where it was nice and warm for him. Harry Hill's TV Burp was on, and my mum was making the tea (it was about 4pm when we went for him). She stroked him and cuddled him, and so did I - he was adorable!
After tea, I took some photos of him.
There he is in his little box.
We took him outside to his new home, made him a clean, dry straw bed and let him in. He was a bit scared at first, and just looked at us. This was his first time in his new home.
We left him alone to settle in, and over the next few days, he got more and more confident around us. I would go into his pen and sit with him, to get him used to me. He would sit and look at me like this:
He was adorable.
I didn't really care that his ears were too long, he might chase sheep anyway.
He even got used to the camera.
And that's the story of Ben's eighth week.